The Brand New Testament (2015)

The Brand New Testament is the kind of audacious, mischievous fantasy-comedy that feels like it was dreamed up on a rainy afternoon in Brussels and then filmed with a poet’s eye and a prankster’s grin. Jaco Van Dormael takes a gleefully irreverent premise and turns it into something surprisingly tender, following a child’s revolt against a petty, cruel deity into a series of human stories that are funny, strange, and quietly moving. The movie’s tone is whimsical and off-kilter, with bursts of visual invention and a warmth that sneaks up on you when you least expect it. It isn’t for everyone—its satire can be provocative and it doesn’t shy away from adult themes—but if you like your comedies imaginative, heartfelt, and just a little blasphemous, it’s a small miracle of originality.

The Brand New Testament wants to be a cheeky, fairy-tale riff on religion and fate, mixing Brussels deadpan with a child’s-eye rebellion against a petty, cruel God. When it’s on, it’s inventively weird and occasionally touching, with some genuinely memorable vignettes and a playful visual imagination. The problem is it can feel like a string of skits searching for a spine: the pacing wanders, the tone swings from dark to cutesy, and the story’s big promise doesn’t always get the follow-through it teases early on. If you like surreal European whimsy and don’t mind taboo jokes, nudity, and a few grim beats wrapped in sweetness, you’ll probably enjoy the ride; if you want tight structure, consistent satire, or a sharper payoff, this may test your patience.